


Redrawn Edges

by Allekha



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Attraction, Developing Relationship, Flirting, M/M, Oh No He's Hot, Pre-Canon, Surprises, Treat, figure skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22767241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allekha/pseuds/Allekha
Summary: Between the end of one season and the beginning of the next, Victor found that Chris had grown a lot - physically, skating-wise, and also he turned hot and learned to flirt.
Relationships: Christophe Giacometti/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Redrawn Edges

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elstaplador](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elstaplador/gifts).



> Happy Chocobox!

Victor had been looking forward to seeing Chris at their first Grand Prix event of the season, in France – looking forward to seeing him for the first time since Worlds all those months ago – but he almost walked past him in the hotel lobby, and not because Lilia was distracting him _that_ much with her ballet talk.

"Victor!" a familiar voice called out, and Victor did a double-take, because was that Chris? _Chris_?

Chris, last time Victor had seen him, had no longer been quite the chubby-cheeked cherub that he'd been the first time they'd met, but this was a Chris who had totally changed in the span of only six or seven months, as though two or three years had passed instead. His hair was darker and shorter, there was visible stubble on his jaw, he'd suddenly grown into his cheekbones – still had those pretty eyes, though – and had he been taller than Victor before?

Victor couldn't help but stare for a moment, confused and surprised and also delighted, because wow, Chris had gone from cute to _hot_. He definitely wouldn't complain if this Chris pinned him to a bed, though he'd never thought about him that way before. "Hi!" he exclaimed, grinning at Chris. "You changed your – everything?"

"Almost," Chris laughed.

After finishing checking in to their hotel, they went out to dinner together and chatted over the food, catching up. Chris's voice had changed, too, turned deeper. Not everything about him was new, though. He still had his kind eyes, and he was still Chris; he asked about Makkachin and he laughed the same as ever when Victor told silly stories about her, and he suggested they split a dessert since they were both weak to chocolate.

The way Chris appear to have grown up so much all of a sudden made Victor curious when they went to practice, wondering whether his skating had changed, too. Chris had already been experimenting last season, trying out more modern music and a cooler style, though Victor thought his short program had never quite meshed.

Victor did have his own practice to do, so he couldn't sit there and watch – Yakov would get so upset if he tried, and despite Yakov's rants, Victor didn't usually try to make him angry if he didn't think it would be worth it. But the glimpses he saw of Chris's step sequence were promising, and his spins had definitely gone from great to amazing, and the music they played when it was Chris's turns were good choices. A kind of jazzy short program, upbeat, and a serious and smooth song for his free skate. They weren't songs that Victor could remember other people skating to before, unlike the overused classical pieces from Chris's first year in seniors.

They drew consecutive spots for the short program. Backstage, they warmed up near each other, though they didn't talk. It was a comfortable kind of quiet work, separate but together, listening to their own music and occasionally smiling at each other when they accidentally moved into the other's space. Usually, Victor only concentrated on himself when he was preparing to skate, and it was nice to have someone he could be next to as he jogged and warmed up his jumps, someone who wouldn't distract him but was present all the same. There weren't any other skaters he could be like that with, not even Georgi.

Before he skated, Lilia fussed over him like she always did, checking that his hair was all secured into the low bun it was tucked away in, tugging on the sleeves of his pale costume, giving him enough reminders to bend his knees and not to slouch that Yakov just patted him on the shoulder to send him off.

He did well, but afterward he mostly remembered the thrill of getting to perform his program before a large audience for the first time in a new season, how it had felt to melt into Lilia's choreography as he skated to the mournful music. Yakov was less satisfied with it than he was, and Victor ignored the lecture in favor of watching Chris get ready for his turn to skate. He could deal with the critique when they were back home.

Chris had an amazing costume on, one that showed off the new muscle he'd gained and sparkled brilliantly under the bright lights. His forearms were left bare, and Victor watched them as he clasped his hands over his head and spun through a twizzle. It was a very good touch.

In the end, Victor took a disappointing silver after a fall in his free skate, and Chris was bronze on the other side of the podium. There wasn't a lot of time talk that night, late as it was after all the ceremonies and press conferences were done, but he sought Chris out at the banquet to tell him how much he liked his new programs. "My favorite part was when you went like," Victor said, trying to mimic the motion of Chris dragging one hand up his chest and the other across his collar without dropping his champagne glass.

"That's my favorite part of it, too," Chris said, and he filled out his suit better now but his smile certainly hadn't changed, wide and going all the way up through his eyes. Victor had always liked his smile. It made Chris look bright and honest. "And your short program is really good – it's so pretty and sad. I thought you were going to cry for real at the end before I saw you smiling."

"I can't cry when I know I did well."

"I probably would have felt bad if you had. Like I needed to do something to help cheer up our lovely fairy prince." His smile shifted as he said it, voice lowering, and that look he had on – ooh, was Chris flirting with him? Chris had tried to, a couple years ago at their first Worlds together, but it had been more adorable than anything. He hadn't done it since then.

This was not adorable. This had real heat in it. It made Victor glance down at his champagne and fiddle with it as he looked back up at Chris through his eyelashes. "How would you cheer me up? If you didn't have to skate afterward."

Chris edged closer to him along the wall where they were standing. Victor shifted a few centimeters over himself. "First, I'd get you somewhere quiet, alone, and I'd hug you – I know how you like those. And then, I think, I'd do this...." He set his hand on Victor's cheek, very gently, and swiped his thumb under his eye like he was wiping away a tear. The touch tingled on Victor's skin. He leaned into the hand, waiting for Chris to say something more, and Chris leaned in even more, opened his mouth....

"Vitya!" That was Yakov's voice. Victor turned his head, annoyed at the interruption, but Yakov wasn't alone.

He groaned and let his head tap against the wall. "Yakov wants me to go talk to someone," he said, taking Chris's hand on his face in his own and squeezing it as an apology. There wasn't any getting out of this one if Yakov could see him, though Victor was definitely going to complain at Yakov for his timing later. "See you?"

"Sure." Chris squeezed back, and though he looked disappointed, he let him go. Victor downed the rest of his champagne in one gulp, and Chris took the glass from him.

He didn't need to run his fingers along Victor's hand first, or to take it so slowly, but Victor appreciated that he did.

~!~

Victor spent most of the GP Final feeling ill from a stomach bug, but at least he felt okay when he was skating. He even felt good for those few minutes he was competing – good enough to skate cleanly, though afterward he mostly wanted to sip on the juice Lilia handed him and sit in a corner until he stopped feeling so weak.

Chris was there, too, and apparently the judges had also noticed that his skating had grown sharper, his gestures more powerful and more heartfelt, because he was silver to Victor's gold. They shared a hug when they congratulated each other and smiled together on the podium. Victor's legs ached with fatigue, but mouthing along to the Russian anthem, his heart felt light.

Since they were both skating near the end of the gala, there was time to kill the next day while they waited for their turns. Chris wrapped a hand around Victor's arm and tugged him down one of the bleak concrete hallways backstage, away from the other skaters and the cameras, away from the buzz of activity and the muffled clapping of the crowd, until he pulled them into a little niche.

It was probably meant for storing equipment. Empty, there was enough breathing room for the two of them to stand there, if they were willing to stand close, and it was quiet. Not that hidden, if anyone came looking, but more private than anywhere else was likely to be right now.

"I think that's my favorite of your costumes," Victor told him. It was even tighter than his competition costumes this season, and there was a lot of illusion mesh that had been matched very well to his skin. The effect was that Chris appeared to be wearing mostly a bunch of sparklies and little else. Victor approved.

Chris posed, setting one hand on his hip and extending his other arm with a gentle curl. Back here, without much light, it didn't sparkle much, but the fabric still clung. "I'll let the designer know. Maybe I'll get another like this next year." He dropped out of the pose and eyed up Victor. "My favorite this year is your short program one, but that one's a good contender, too."

"I bought this at a store," Victor laughed, tugging at the sleeves where they half covered his hands. It wasn't a pretty, delicate, chiffon thing that had cost a lot of rubles after being painstakingly decorated; it was a mesh shirt. He didn't have anything on beneath it. He'd changed his exhibition for the Final at the last minute to a new one with a rock song, so it didn't even have any crystals glued on.

Maybe if he kept the program. He was already thinking of doing a new one for Euros. Yakov and Lilia might roll their eyes, but they had let him do whatever for galas for years now.

"It looks amazing on you either way," Chris said, and then he reached out and touched Victor's stomach through the fabric, tracing one of the muscles. It wasn't quite as electric as his bare skin on Victor's face had been, but it was still really good.

Victor wanted him to keep touching; he liked the concentrated look that Chris's face had slipped into. Not teasing but looking, enjoying, following where he was touching. When Chris's hand hesitated, Victor stepped even closer and started to trace the crystals on Chris's shoulder where they curved over the muscles.

For a minute, they kept touching each other like that, softly, just fingertips, and even with all of their clothes on, it felt special. Victor didn't often get this kind of intimate with people. He flirted, sure, but usually for fun. A lot of people flirted with him; he knew he was pretty, he knew people liked success and smiles and a reputation for being nice to everyone. This quiet appreciation, no words, no rush, that was new.

Chris's hand crept up Victor's chest; one finger _just_ skimmed a nipple, and Victor's toes curled in his sneakers. He bit his lip. Chris's eyes met his again and Victor wanted to kiss him as gently as they were touching. He wanted to continue exploring each other, slowly, and he wanted to find out more new things about Chris.

They were close enough that they could kiss, if they wanted to. In the dim light, Chris's eyes were very dark and attractive and Victor was five seconds away from rocking up onto his toes when someone came down the hall, calling their names. Victor let out a long sigh and dropped his face to Chris's shoulder, and Chris patted his shoulder and joined him in sighing.

No time for making out. The gala had to be skated in. They made their way back to where they were supposed to wait and sat next to each other to pull their skates on, and Victor leaned into Chris's warmth as they waited some more. He was only wearing a thin shirt, after all, and they were at an ice rink. Chris was warmer than a jacket, and he talked way more. Apparently, he had recently adopted a fluffy kitty, and it was cute to see him talk about her like Victor talked about Makkachin.

After the gala, without Chris or skating to distract him, the remnants of Victor's stomach bug caught up to him, or maybe he was tired from competing sick. He was exhausted enough that Lilia noticed and walked him to his room to take a nap, and he woke up much, much later having completely missed the banquet.

Where he'd been planning on asking Chris back to his room so he could see if Chris was amenable to gentle, surprisingly interesting touches and to pinning him to the bed at the same time. Stupid illness. Stupid interruptions.

Victor didn't see Chris again until late in the morning, when they was met next to the elevator with packed suitcases. "Feeling better?" Chris asked. If he was upset that Victor had skipped the banquet, he didn't show it, though Victor had already replied to his texts to tell him he'd overslept.

"Yeah. I only had to sleep for fifteen hours straight." He made a face, and Chris chuckled. Victor had already tried to whine at Lilia for not waking him up, but she'd insisted his health was more important. Maybe she would have changed her mind if he'd said he was meeting someone, with her whole thing about love and romance. "At least I won't feel sick on the plane."

They had a couple of minutes to grumble about winter illnesses and times they'd competed sick at other competitions while waiting for the elevator. Chris didn't seem mad, but he wasn't doing all the lovely flirting things any more, either. Which made sense when they were about to leave and not see each other for weeks, Victor supposed. That didn't stop him from wanting more.

He touched his hair, trying to think of something good – maybe he should just kiss him? Then the elevator dinged. Maybe he would have to wait for Euros after all.

Only the two of them were going down. "You have Nationals soon, right?" said Chris. "Good luck keeping Georgi and the rest off your tail."

"Thanks." Georgi was a more formidable opponent than he'd been a couple of years ago, now that he could land a consistent quad toe, but Victor was pretty sure he only had to focus on skating cleanly to keep his title. "And good luck at yours." Not that Chris faced any real competition except for Lambiel, of course, but—

"We already had ours last week. Only second, more's the pity, but I'll get there."

"Oh." Victor tugged on his hair. "Right, they schedule it weird in your country. Congratulations?"

Chris laughed, which didn't help Victor's embarrassment, but as the elevator slowly dinged towards the lobby, he nudged Victor and asked, "You're not contagious any more, right?"

"I feel fine, so I don't think so. Why?"

Chris didn't answer in words. He answered by brushing Victor's hand away from his hair, slipping his own hand onto Victor's cheek, and kissing him. It was a brief kiss; he pulled away when the elevator shuddered to a stop, his stubble scratching against Victor's cheek. "See you at Euros," he said, grabbing his suitcase.

Victor blinked for a moment, still feeling Chris's lips on his own, then chased after him, laughing from the surprise.

~!~

At Euros, Victor first spotted Chris sitting on one of the hotel's couches when he came back from dinner with some of the other Russian skaters. He made a beeline to it and dropped over him from behind, feeling him jump as Victor hugged him. "Chris," he said, and then he put on his best dramatic voice: "I can't believe you've been keeping secrets! You weren't going to tell me?"

The girl Chris was sitting with giggled as he tried to look up at Victor. "Of course I was." He excused himself from the conversation and followed Victor upstairs. In the elevator, he asked, "Tell you what?"

Victor leaned in and whispered into his ear: "About the _quad_." He leaned back. "One of the ice dancers tried out with a Swiss guy this summer, and she told me you've been working on it."

"Yes?" A smile broke through Chris's confusion. "I didn't know the right time to tell you about it."

"You should show me." They arrived at the right floor, and Victor dragged Chris out, digging around for his key card. "You know how I like seeing your quads."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "And my lutz? I know mine is pretty big, powerful...."

Victor stifled his laughter so he could unlock his door. "How long?" he asked when they were inside.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm not the kind of guy to feel inadequate about it, so I don't keep a measuring tape around. Two or three meters?"

Victor laughed and shoved him. "Since summer? Earlier?"

"About a year," Chris said, shedding some of the mirth as he bent to take off his shoes. "It's coming along."

If Chris could add a quad lutz to go with his salchow – that would certainly make for an exciting competition! Victor had tried it in the harness a couple of times, but it hadn't gone that well, and Yakov didn't want him training it for real until after the Olympics. Maybe he'd get the quad flip first. "I want to see it," he said, sitting on his bed hard enough to bounce. "Will I get to if I visit you in Switzerland?"

"Or pay for me to come to Russia, I guess," Chris said, coming to sit next to him.

Victor lit up at the idea of training with Chris over the summer in his own rink. "That would be so much fun!"

"Yeah. Hey, you don't have anything else tonight, right? Your coach won't call you or anything?"

Remembering what had happened the last couple of times they'd met, Victor shook his head and pulled his phone from his pocket to set it to silent before throwing it somewhere up the bed. "Nope." Were they going to kiss now? He'd been looking forward to that for weeks.

Chris didn't immediately kiss him, though, which was a disappointment, but he did drag his eyes up and down Victor. He asked, voice quieter than before, "Can I take your hair down?"

He sounded like the old Chris for a moment, sweet and sometimes shier than Victor, not like the adult Chris who was bold enough to kiss Victor out of nowhere. It was familiar and it melted something in Victor's chest. "Sure," he said, turning his head.

Chris was gentle, pulling the tie down slowly and smoothing Victor's hair into place. There was the look that Chris had worn before the gala while touching him, interested, looking at nothing but him. It was becoming Victor's favorite of his expressions after his smile.

And then Chris pushed on his shoulder, and then he was flat on his back on the bedspread, and then they were kissing.

It turned out that Chris was, in fact, into both pinning and soft touches, and also really, really good at kissing. And, later, cuddling. Victor snuggled into his warmth, glad that they hadn't been interrupted this time. Chris had really grown in a lot of ways.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked when the silence bored him. He was too wired to sleep quite yet.

"Other times we've gone places. Remember when we got drunk at that after-party in Paris, decided to go exploring, and nearly threw up on each other on the pretty bridge with the lamps?"

"Still better than that time in China." Victor had wanted an adventure after seeing a tourism brochure, and Chris had come with him. They had ended up lost for half a day in a town where nobody spoke any English (let alone the other languages they could muster), and by the time they had figured out how to get back, they were exhausted and hardly speaking.

Not lot of people had ever seen Victor hungover or cranky. He tried hard to maintain his image. Still, that Chris had seen him more than once as something far from picture-perfect Olympic-champion Victor and still wanted to flirt with him made Victor feel something fuzzy inside his chest. He snuggled harder into Chris.

"So, Switzerland or Russia?"

"You should come to Russia. I know this choreographer, I could introduce you. He'd work really well with your style." Something cool, flowing, different, the kind of programs Chris seemed to want to do. He was confident enough when he performed to pull that kind of thing off, and he'd grown into a strong enough skater. "I'll help you get a good deal."

"If you tell me who he is so I can look him up first." He pressed a kiss into Victor's hair, which was now a mess, but Chris didn't seem to mind. "Thanks."

"And I can sneak you into the rink at night! You know, if your lutz is that secret."

Chris snorted into his hair, which was less sweet, but he made up for it by wrapping his other arm around Victor. "It's not so confidential that you need to do that. But I wouldn't mind having some alone time with you, the ice... maybe with you up against the boards and our skates on... or don't you have a bunch of windows there?"

"Have you always been hiding this dirty mind under your curls, or did you get it when you turned all sexy?" Victor asked, reaching up to poke at Chris's hair. He meant to hit the longer curls on top rather than the short sides, but without being able to see, it took a couple of tries to find them.

"Shush," said Chris. He pushed his face into the top of Victor's head, and he was pretty sure he could feel the smile.

"They're good ideas," he offered. "You should tell me more of them."

So Chris did, and it turned out that he had plenty more excellent ideas; they ended up talking until far past the time they should have gone to sleep, about what they might do together in Russia, about their hard work in training, about their hopes and plans for their skating beyond this one competition, wrapped up together in a warm cocoon of blankets.


End file.
